


Rainy Days

by Dreamer in the Dark (Dream_Wreaver)



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: At What Cost Universe, F/M, Meandering Little Ideas, Pretending Not to Know One Another, Takes place in a Pre-Established AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-03
Updated: 2019-04-03
Packaged: 2020-01-01 09:59:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18333695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dream_Wreaver/pseuds/Dreamer%20in%20the%20Dark
Summary: Everything seems to slow on rainy days. But that doesn't stop the storm from dragging something in





	Rainy Days

**Author's Note:**

> So... I have no excuse for this it was just something I wanted to write. Hope you enjoy self-indulgence because that's all this is.

It was a storm the likes of Paris hadn’t seen in years. It was more than a storm, it was a veritable tempest, the deluge soaking the streets, the buildings, and any unfortunate soul stupid or unlucky enough to have been caught outside. Theoretically, that meant the working class -the servants, the drivers, the hired help- all got it the worst. Chores and tasks still needed to be accomplished after all. Gabriel, however, had taken pity on his staff. A rainy day meant everyone was cooped up in the house. And to be honest he much preferred it when they were cooped up in the servants quarters instead of all scurrying around bothering him.

Of course, there  _ were _ certain drawbacks, such as having to answer the door when he heard its bell chime. And of course it  _ had _ to happen when he was just settling down with a good book and a warm cup of tea, the fireplace crackling invitingly and his favorite armchair was perfectly positioned for light and warmth. Gabriel was -to put it mildly- very annoyed. He stormed over to the door and only years upon years of ingrained etiquette lessons kept him from throwing open the heavy wooden door to express his irritation.

On the doorstep. Blue, long and rich and billowing. The way the cloak clung to get. Her hair, normally dark when dry he presumed, looked like the night sky itself was growing out of her head. In essence, she looked like a drowned rat. And yet, still beautiful. But what could she possibly want standing on his doorstep like that? Though her expression was stoic, her lips quivered from the chill.

“I’m cold,” she said, and that was explanation enough. Of course she would be cold, she was more than likely soaked completely through under that cloak, and yet since it was the only thing she had to remotely protect herself she dealt with the shivering and clung to the fabric as her only measly shelter.

“I…” he didn’t really have the words to respond eloquently to such bluntness, “I can see that.”

“And wet,”

“I can see that too,”

“If it pleases your grace, might I come in and warm myself by the fire,”

There was a quip hovering behind his teeth, but Gabriel restrained it. It seemed she was determined to act as demure, reserved, and yet imperious as possible. He could tell her no, that was certainly a possibility, and a tempting one at that. But, he continued looking at her, and how pathetic she looked soaked through to the skin like that. And he really was a weak man, wasn’t he?

“By all means,” Gabriel said as he stepped to the side. The woman brushed past him and stood in the hallways, still dripping water onto the floor. Oh well, he could have Nooroo put an order in to have someone clean it up later. He stepped up behind her, “May I take your cloak?”

“That depends,” she evaded, “What do you plan on doing with it?”

“Hang it up so it can dry?” he couldn’t believe her skepticism, “Is there a reason you’re so skittish when  _ you _ were the one who wanted to be let in to dry off?”

“Forgive me,  _ your grace _ ,” was her reply, “I but I don’t know you, so how can I trust you?”

_ Oh _ . So that was how this was, was it? And here he thought… well, then. Fine. He could adjust.

“I assure you Miss…”

“Dupaon,” she answered, “Mayura Dupaon,”

“I assure you Miss…” he hesitated a moment, “Dupaon, you’re in no danger from me.”

“Really?” she arched a brow at him, “And what proof do you have to reassure me?”

“I’m married,”

“And?”

“You don’t believe that’s enough?” he folded his arms and raised a brow at her from over the rim of his glasses, “Have men of my station really made such a mockery of the sacrament?”

“I don’t know,” she narrowed her gaze and smirked, “Why don’t you tell me?”

“I’m married,” he stated once more, “Very happily I might add.”

She studied him a moment, “I see,” she said, but her tone was placating, as if she were simply humoring his words instead of believing in their sincerity.

“May I take your cloak, or do you intend to keep dripping all over my house?”

“If your grace insists,” nimble fingers reached for the clasp and suddenly the jewel-blue material free fell into a puddle around her. Gabriel’s eyes widened, that gown she was wearing, it was  _ not _ a gown for calling.

“Where,” he paused at how hoarse sounding his voice came out, cleared his throat and tried again, “Where did you get  _ that _ ?”

Mayura paused a moment, looked at the dress with its deep plunge about her decolletage, the sleeves that bared her arms since she wasn’t wearing gloves, and the overall thinness of it as the sodden material clung to her body, “I received it from the modiste today, and it looked so good I couldn’t resist wearing it home,” she shrugged, the movement drawing his eyes wandering, “I didn’t expect it to rain.”

Again, Gabriel found himself clearing his throat, but before he could say anything she began to wander away. And in a manner that felt incredibly familiar, he was following after her. She had wandered into his sitting room and made herself inexorably comfortable in his armchair. Gabriel felt a vein in his neck twitch, she was a little thorn in his side, wasn’t she?

“Have you perhaps been here before?” he asked her, the question loaded.

Mayura, sitting sideways in the chair with her feet pointed towards the fireplace, turned her head towards him a fraction, before letting it drop completely against the other armrest. She viewed him from upside down, which gave her more of more of a flippant and cavalier attitude than before.

“Maybe,” she allowed, “Or maybe I was able to follow the sound and smell of fire here.”

“How perceptive,” Gabriel remarked, pulling up another chair and sitting properly in it across from her.

Mayura had closed her eyes and made no attempt to pick her head back up from where she had let it drop. Her breathing was slow and even, soaking in the warmth from the burning embers. It allowed Gabriel to view her without guilt, since she couldn’t see and censure him. It wasn’t a sin if he was only looking, it was just like admiring a piece of art in a gallery. Only this gallery was his own personal collection. Silence reigned, broken only by the sounds of even breathing and a crackling fire. He honestly thought she had fallen asleep when she spoke,

“Speaking of perceptive,” the words broke him out of the small meditative haze he’d developed while staring, “Where is your wife, if you don’t mind my asking?”

Gabriel narrowed his gaze at her, “She’s resting upstairs,” he said, keenly watching to see how she would react.

“Is she now? Interesting,” much like when he’d said he was happily married it sounded like she didn’t believe him. But she didn’t press him on it, and returned to being silent. Again, he thought she might have fallen asleep, but the even cadence of her breathing became fractured as violent shivers began to over take her. Her cloak was still drying, and the servants were away. Gabriel rose from his chair only to kneel down next to her, taking one of her hands in his own and rubbing at the skin trying to generate heat. Slowly but surely, it began to work, and her tremors ceased.

Gabriel made to let go and return to his seat when her other hand laid itself atop his. Her eyes were staring at him, intense and fathomless. They stared a moment, and Gabriel registered the exact moment he felt he could fall into the depths of her eyes and drown, especially when they turned to molten sapphires as they were now in the firelight. But still, the light yet weighted presence of the ring on his left hand was like an anchor, reminding him of all he had vowed, all he cherished. All he did not want to waste. He made to pull away again, but this time it was her voice that had stopped him.

“Please,” she offered, voice softer, lower, more intimate, “There must be something I can do to repay your grace’s most gracious generosity,”

“I know what you’re implying,” Gabriel didn’t even try to hide the roughness in his own voice, “But I simply can’t.” he broke away, turned his back to her, and added, “I told you, I’m happily married. I wouldn’t make advances towards you, because I cherish my wife.”

“And if I make them towards  _ you _ ?” Mayura countered. Though he was not facing her he knew her actions all the same. She rose from the chair and walked towards him, circling her arms around his chest and embracing him from behind, “I believe you,” she whispered, “When you say you are happy with her. But that does not preclude you from feeling desire for me. It’s alright you know, to feel this way.”

“It isn’t,”

“Let me repay you, the only way I can,” she tempted.

“I’d rather have a few coins,”

“No you wouldn’t,” now her whisper was smug, as though she could see into his mind, read his thoughts, his feelings, his turmoil, “You want this, you want me. But you won’t allow yourself to want it.”

“For very good reason,”

“You can pretend,” Mayura’s voice wrapped around him like he was certain the serpent wrapped around Eve as it tempted her to eat the forbidden fruit, “You can use me in place of her.”

“How is that fair to either of you?” Gabriel countered, “To sleep with you would dishonor my wife, and to place her image over you if I do so…” he was silent a moment, “It’s not a question of whether or not I feel desire for you. It’s a question of what kind of man I want to be.”

Mayura was silent, “Shall I drop this then?” she asked.

And much like his question of whether or not she had been in this house before. All of this, it could all stop if they had taken it too far. Perhaps it was simply Gabriel’s rather single-mindedness when it came to thinking through his own morality. If he felt he had just cause to do something bad, then the badness of the thing was mitigated -if not excused completely- by his motivations for doing the thing. The problem was, was that he no longer had any reason to do anything bad. His marriage was stable, happy even, he was rebuilding his life, living again after so many years of simply being. And yet, his heart thrummed within his chest, and he could feel the desire building as she remained pressed against him. One little word could change everything, could end all pretense and hesitation. The question was, which word would he choose?

“Don’t,” he sighed, feeling weak, “I want this, I want you,”

He didn’t have to see her to know she was smirking. She had a tell after all, a soft little breath of laughter, barely noticeable if you didn’t know her well enough. Mayura’s fingers began drawing mindless patterns across his chest. It wasn’t enough that he’d told her not to stop, she wanted him to take the lead. Taking a shuddering breath, Gabriel slowly turned around. Mayura was staring up at him, her blue eyes dark with her burgeoning desire. She tilted her chin up towards him, looking like she wanted to kiss him, if only he wasn’t so much taller than her.

“Kiss me,” she breathed, her chest visibly moving up and down as she took in breath, as though she were breathless.

Gabriel leaned down and kissed her. Her arms, which had retreated back to their sides when he had turned around, now twined themselves around him, threading her fingers through his hair, clutching at the back of his jacket. He felt the dampness of her clothing as it brushed against his own when he crushed her to him. Her skin, despite lying next to the fire, was still a little chilled. And between that and the ministrations of his own hands wandering over her bared skin, she was trembling like a leaf. By the time they broke apart for breath, she was cradled in his arms like a precious treasure. Mayura clung to him, shifting her focus to his neck as he stumbled to the stairs.

With a bounce, she landed on a bed. Not just any bed, the bed in his chambers. Mayura made a show of looking around, and smirked again at him when she saw nothing but his furnishings.

“I thought you said your wife was resting upstairs,”

“She’s in another room,”

“Ha!” she scoffed, looking the victor even as she was laid out like an offering beneath him, “Liar,” was her accusation.

“Look who’s talking,” Gabriel parried, peppering kisses along the edges of her gown, across her shoulders, anywhere he could reach really. The goosebumps that appeared were entirely of his doing, of that he was sure.

Mayura’s responding laugh was cut short and turned into a breathy gasp as he reached for the stays on her dress, grazing the side of her breast as he did so. Quickly his fingers found the lacings and began pulling, more than willing to disrobe now that he had her at this state. Her hands were just as eager, pulling at the pin in his cravat, then the garment itself, pushing his jacket from his shoulders. In this manner, all of their clothing was shed and discarded off the side of the bed.

Nerves tingled in the wake of explorative appendages. Shivers and shudders were sent down both spines as fingers prodded and lightly scratched. Then his were ensconced in her heat, and she was writhing around and atop them. He knew she was searching for that crest, but he was determined to make her work for it as he tasted the salt against her sweat-soaked skin. Sweat, and that sweet aroma of rain. What did they call it? Ah yes, petrichor. Her own hands were preoccupied with leaving angry little red lines down his shoulders and back, his chest, or keeping a steady rhythm about him as he did with her. The only sounds they could make were of incoherence, panting and gasping and something that might have passed for language were either of them in a saner frame of mind. But Gabriel was nothing if not a stubborn bastard -which, coincidentally, was something she called him several times as she was kept dangling on that precipice far more times than she would have liked. And it wasn’t until she was begging for him that he allowed himself the pleasure of giving them what they both craved.

Hard to imagine, but the art of bonding with someone in a physical manner such as this is very much akin to breathing. For some, there is that natural ability to know, and it is a simple of in and out, slow and methodic and a way that keeps the process from becoming too labored. That is, it is once you know what you’re doing. Thankfully he had plenty of experience in this regard. And he was pretty good at reading people too. Not that it mattered, she made it a point of telling him what she liked -which at this point was everything so long as it got her where she wanted to go- and reciprocating in kind, causing instinctive reactions that he lost more and more control over the closer they both got. It got worse when he could feel the onslaught coming, ready to rush over him like a tidal wave and drown him in its euphoria.

“Mayura, Mayura,” it was the only word he could form. His brain and senses were very swiftly departing him.  In the end, it was her little gasp of rapturous satisfaction that did him in, though the name that slipped from his lips wasn’t the one he knew he was -theoretically supposed to utter, “ _ Nathalie _ ,”

All strength left him. And he collapsed atop her before immediately rolling over to his side, cradling her close as he tried to slow his breathing to where it didn’t sound as if he might die at any moment. For the longest time, the room was filled with nothing but the sounds of their discordant labored breathing as they tried to get their hearts to slow down. Gabriel, for his part, felt rather weary, more weary than usual. He let out a sigh, he was getting old.

A dainty finger touched itself to the furrow between his brows, “A franc for your thoughts my love?”

“I’m getting too old for this,” he sighed. After a moment he realized the way his words could have been misconstrued, “It’s not the physical exertion, not fully anyways,” he murmured, curling an arm about her shoulder as she nestled in closer to him.

“Then what is it?”

“It’s the mental toll,” he sighed again, “I never was very good at acting.”

“I suppose I might be  _ too _ good at it,” Nathalie admitted, “But you have to admit that this sort of thing is fun from time to time.”

“Ah yes, because I really was enjoying even the theoretical of cheating on my wife,  _ with _ my wife no less.”

“You didn’t  _ have _ to add that in there,” Nathalie pointed out.

“How do you even come up with such ridiculous scenarios?” Gabriel asked her, “If you’re so imaginative, surely you could put that creativity to better use.”

“What better use is there than sharing my indulgent whims with the one I trust the most?”

“Perhaps writing them down and making a fortune?”

“You don’t need anymore money, my little butterfly,”

“Perhaps not, my pretty bird, but the success and acclaim-”

“Are not why I’m with you and you know that,” Nathalie let out a self-indulgent smile of her own, “I spend a great deal of my time thinking about how lucky I am to have you in my life. And sometimes, when I’m not thinking of anything bothersome, I think about all the myriad of ways we might have met again, had we not met the way we had.”

“And how did this little dream of yours come about? Don’t tell me you actually did something so foolish as go out in the rain?”

“Actually, no,” she laughed softly, “I wanted to spend a little time in the local park and insisted I could walk myself back. I didn’t believe the driver when he said it looked like rain, as a matter of fact I only took the cloak because I knew he would badger me to distraction otherwise.”

“And the gown?”

“Marinette helped me repurpose an older gown into something a little more light, modern, and summer weather appropriate -sudden storms notwithstanding,” was her answer, “normally, it has a little jacket that’s pinned to it to give the illusion of sleeves, and then there are the gloves and the jewelry and all the other trappings of society. However, it was so warm I forewent all the rest. The gown is pretty, don’t you think?”

“It looks prettier on the floor, from where I’m laying.”

There was a slight pause, she was likely blushing though he couldn’t say for certain when it was this dark in their room, and then, “You  _ would _ say that.”

“Wouldn’t any man say that of the outfits of a woman he loves and desires more than anything?”

“I wouldn’t know,” she remarked, “All the other’s love was based on loneliness and what they were willing to pay to escape that. Preference didn’t matter, you know that.”

“And I vow to never let you feel that way ever again,” he reached for the arm she was laying on and pulled it until he could feel the cold gemstone of her wedding rings against his lips. He kissed the hand, “My pretty, pretty bird.”

She sighed, happily, sleepily, “My little butterfly.”

And together they drifted into dreamland; lulled by the steady beating of their hearts, and the rain against the windows.

**Author's Note:**

> Alright so, quick announcement. The end of the semester is drawing near and lucky me, I have all papers for my final examinations. This means I'm going to be more or less completely drained writing wise so expect me to be MIA until the middle of may. I'll try not to stop writing, but the posting is probably going to be less frequent than it has been. Either way, I hope if you enjoyed this you'll leave a comment. Thanks for reading and I'll see you guys in a little while


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